Eleventh month

And the random surf site for today:
Welcome to your home page, Researcher 78154.

A visit to the library to drop off a book donation (a re-written! version of The Secret Garden on cheap paper -- not a gift i could give to the next generation in my family)

returns me to my office with a stack of books. One is Caprice by Ronald Firbank ( 1886 - 1926 ). The edition that caught my eye is a tiny little paper back, a "bibelot," with cover art by Andy Warhol (not that i would have known, mind you), an untranslated quotation from Sappho on the copyright page, cheap papeer and a weird font that connects s to t with a flourish, and this quotation from Auden on the back: "The novels of Ronald Firbank are, for me, an absolute test. A person who dislikes them...may, for all I know, possess some admirable quality, but I do not wish to ever see him again." Apparently, the Washington Post has decided that Auden is typical of their target audience. In reviews of movies and books, staff writers seem to drop his name in a secret attempt to gain Auden's approval. Pity. Auden's dead. It appears that Firbank was know for his place in the development of modernism and for his wit. Personally, for dry British wit, I'll take Oscar Wilde, who pre-dates Firbank, to the best of my web-research deduction, by only a decade or so. His name is invoked next to Pound and Joyce, which is impressive company.

So what do i think of Firbank's Caprice? Not just to gain the respect of all these lit critics will i say i don't dislike it. It's heavy dialouge, with little to point to who said what. Personally, when i find myself having to count back lines to make sure i've got the right speaker in mind, i get distracted from the virtual reality of the novel. Knowing very little about London society in the first part of the century, i feel i missed the experience. Only part way through did i shake my mental picture tube and mutter, "Flapper dresses! Think Jazz age, roaring twenties!" It's like reading The Tale of Gengi when you realize all the conversations taking place between man and woman are done through screens -- the author never mentioning it because nothing else could be imagined. Yet i do find myself captivated by the heroine, Sarah Sinquier, who motivated me to keep wrestling with who-said-what. And the touches of atmosphere and location are as effective in creating an context as a bare stage with a few props. It's an abstract that, being short, a second read reveals details hidden in the broad brushstroke. 991108

And the musical selection to hack to today:
Lou Reed: New York,
Songs of Amber deLaurentis & Sarah Blue,
Y e s: 90125.

And the musical selection to hack to today:
tin machine: tin machine II,
Lou Reed: New York.

And the random surf site for today:
SueSpammers.Org